We'll Talk Again
by drowsyfantasy
Summary: For some, death is the end. For others, it's just a...temporary inconvenience.
1. 10:25 pm

_Disclaimer: I own no part of Red Eye, and am in no way earning any profit off this story. It is fan fiction, and is written for enjoyment, not monetary gain._ **

* * *

****We'll Talk Again.**

_There is a pause, then the pain of a bullet, and then he lurches forwards and kicks her gun away, then he pulls her hair, straddles her back (mmm straddling yes yes isn't this what we were doing before?) and then there's a voice (who?) and he looks up and then more pain (ahhh I've been shot again, fuck this) and he falls back onto the floor, he looks at her then at the man who shot him (her father? yes?) and then at her and then up and then there's a wall of white (ceiling not wall) and then he blacks out. _

10:25 pm.

Tuesday.

"Shit."

Yet another delayed flight. How long could this go on? By this point it was more an annoyance than a cause for alarm. She'd been on six delayed flights ever since The Incident, as she preferred to think of it. Capitals made it sound important, and she figured that's all it really deserved. It was over; she didn't have to be suspicious of the people around her on the plane. Jack – Jackson – had been an anomaly, and a bad one at that. All of these people were just regular citizens, none of them wanted to do anything more than get from point A to point B. She figured the next oddball she'd meet would turn out to be a children's entertainer that she'd loved during childhood. Chance owed her that. Random chance.

_Had he really been following her for eight weeks? And she hadn't noticed a thing?_

She shook her head forcefully to stop herself from following along that train of thoughts.

"Really, ma'am? You're not on the flight out?" the attendant looked at her curiously. "Then why are you in this – "

"Uh, no! No, sorry – there was a fly." she flushed slightly at the embarrassment, handing over her ticket.

"Uh…thank you. Have a pleasant flight…" the attendant raised an eyebrow as she turned to help the next person.

Lisa cringed inwardly. She really had to stop thinking about Jack – Jackson. Why did she keep calling him that? All it did was distract her, and he was long gone. She wished he could've been recovering with a tracheotomy in some lunatic asylum, wrapped up in more binding linen than a mummy. Or better yet, behind bars for life in some horrible prison for people like him. But somehow, the thought of him dying made her feel slightly queasy inside. And he was dead. Pronounced dead on arrival at the hospital – she'd only learned this after the fact. So maybe it was because she just didn't like the thought of anyone dead that her stomach suddenly roiled. Yeah. Yeah, that had to be it.

She took her seat – window seat at the very back of the plane – and stared out of it into the darkness outside. Damn October weather was rainy and slick. They'd probably have to wait another while before taking off just to make sure the runway didn't have wet leaves all over it.

She was both surprised and slightly pleased when no one took the seat next to her while boarding. Apparently this flight wasn't fully booked up; the delay had been only because of the weather.

Settling back into the plush seat she listened to the captain – in a very dry voice – drone on about safety features of the plane. It almost made her want to fall asleep.

"Hey, Leese."

She blinked slightly, dazedly. She knew that voice, from somewhere. Where – ?

"Leeeeese."

Wait a minute.

Her slow wakening process was jolted into sudden alertness by the plane suddenly moving down the runway. Apparently they'd gotten the go-ahead sign without her noticing and as she turned her head from the window – and the rapidly-moving ground beneath them – to the seat beside her, she froze. Froze utterly.

_No. No, no, no, no, **no**._

"You're dead. They said you were dead. I shot you. Dad shot you. You couldn't have – "

"I'm back." his blue eyes glittered with mirth. "For some people, death is the end. La fin. El finito. But not me. For me, death is an…inconvenience."

Lisa swallowed, and then gripped the arms of her seat as the plane turned and suddenly began to move faster. Totally normal, she told herself in a daze.

"Dead. But. No. How? No. Can't be. We killed you. I killed you. You should be buried in a mahogany coffin somewhere." she whispered, then blinked. "You faked your death?"

"Nope." he tilted his head, grinning slightly. "I really am dead. Feel my pulse." he offered his wrist.

She took it almost mechanically. It was cold as ice and all his veins and arteries that should've been blue and red and pulsing with life – they were all a dull shade of gray-black. The pallor of death. He had no pulse.

She dropped it like a live wire, jumping back as if electrocuted.

He only smiled. "Oh, and by the way – mahogany is a very expensive wood to bury people in, especially if it's been lacquered and lined with velvet. They shoved me into a furnace and burned my body for three hours at twenty-five hundred degrees. I watched my body burn until it was nothing but ashes." his smile dropped. "Then they dumped my ashes into a lead box and buried me in the back of a no-name cemetery where they bury criminals."

"Jesus Christ."

"Far from it." he sat back, relaxed, winked at a non-responsive stewardess as she hurried by to take her place at the back; slapped her ass and laughed his head off when she turned and saw no one within range. "I'm dead, Leese. I'm dead, but I'm back." he turned to her and smiled. "And I still have a job to do."

"Wh-what?" she stammered, trying to get a grip on her nerves.

"We still have a chance, Leese. We still have a chance to correct our past mistakes. And this time…" his smile widened. "This time, there'll be no mistakes. This time…" he paused, as the plane finally lifted off the ground, "…it's just you, me, and our target."

"Our wh…no, no way. This isn't real. This is a dream." she muttered, turning her head to watch out the window.

He grabbed her wrist; his touch burned with icy fire. "Oh, Leese. This is real. Very real." he chuckled. "And this…is going to be fun."

* * *

_To Be Continued..._


	2. 11:00 pm

_Disclaimer: I own no part of Red Eye, and am in no way earning any profit off this story. It is fan fiction, and is written for enjoyment, not monetary gain._

* * *

11:00 pm. 

Tuesday.

_Good evening, everyone. This is your captain speaking. The seatbelt sign has been turned off, and you're free to walk about the cabin now. We would like to remind you that there is no smoking permitted at any time during this flight…_

For a few minutes, all Lisa could do was stare out the window and pretend there wasn't some kind of creepy pseudo-ghost thing beside her. The weather was rather low, and they'd risen above the storm clouds. The sky was a long stretch of black velvet, with little diamonds studded in it here and there.

"Leese."

She let out a soft sigh and turned back to look at…him. "Jack."

He grinned. "Dead and kicking. Now. Let's get back to our plan."

"Shut up. You're not real, and I'm not going to listen to you." she said bitterly, turning to stare out the window again.

He bit her exposed neck slightly – she shrieked and jumped, causing the people around her to stare at her oddly.

"No, no, I'm fine – sorry – " she flushed. "I pinched myself on the seat, that's all."

"You'll have to be more careful this time. Nobody can see me or hear me but you – and that means you'll have lot harder of a time trying to explain yourself." Jackson said, relaxing back in the seat again.

She bit her lip and touched the side of her neck where he'd bitten her. She could feel slight teeth marks, and she adjusted her scarf over them as her guts swam in nervousness and misery. "Fine. You're real. Now what do you want?"

"The same thing as last time. The aide to a kill."

"Don't be stupid." she hissed. "Last time it got _you_ killed. You can't make me help you this time."

"You already are. It's going to be far easier than last time." he grinned. "Our target…is on this flight."

Her eyes widened. "What?" she hissed.

"A spy. A government spy that's on his way to HQ to deliver a very important message. And it's our job – _your_ job – to make sure it never gets there."

"Forget it. I'd die before I'll help you kill again." she turned her head away.

"And you probably will. You see, this plane is rigged to explode the minute it hits the ground again. Fail-safe this time." he smiled. "If you don't help me kill him…the minute this plane lands, _everybody_ dies. That elderly woman up there – those two darling six-month-old twins back there, that newlywed couple just about to go on their honeymoon – and you. Kaboom." he grinned.

"No." she went white. "You couldn't."

"That's getting to be a _really_ annoying word, you know." he sighed and rolled his eyes. "I've never lied to you before. Why would I bother to start now? You help me kill this guy, I go to where the bomb is and defuse it." he cracked his knuckles. "Funny thing, this body. I can touch you, and other humans. But I can also go through things." he slid his arm through the back of his seat, in and out like a hot knife through butter. "You help me kill this guy, and I turn the ticker off. So. What'cha say?"

She felt her fists clench, nails digging into her palms. Skin split and suddenly her left hand felt warm and sticky.

"Mmm." he turned her hand over and daubed at her blood with a forefinger, resting it on his tongue. "Blood is the life. Are you willing to give up yours, and everyone's on this plane, just for being stubborn? It's the perfect plan, and you'll never get caught. Besides. It's someone you don't even know, this time. So easy. So little to give." he smiled.

"It's a long flight." she whispered. "Give me some time. I just need…I need to think about this."

He shrugged. "You're right – it's a long flight. Take all the time you need. Just know that it needs to be done long before we go into descent. Because I can't defuse the bomb while it's going off."

She shivered slightly at his cold, callous words.

"I understand."

"Good." he smiled, sitting back in his seat. "Oh, and don't try to tell anyone either. They'll never find it before they're ordered to land. And when that happens…" his grin widened again.

"I know, I know. Be quiet." she whispered, staring out the window again. _God help me. _

He sat back, crossed his legs. "Wake me when you've made a decision."

He closed his eyes.

* * *

_To Be Continued…_


	3. 11:46 pm

_Disclaimer: I own no part of Red Eye, and am in no way earning any profit off this story. It is fan fiction, and is written for enjoyment, not monetary gain._

* * *

11:46 pm.

Tuesday.

"Hey, Leese – wake up!"

She jolted awake. "Mmmwha?"

"Ma'am, would you like something to drink?" the stewardess looked puzzled as the woman woke up right before her eyes.  
"Get me something alcoholic." Jackson chuckled and Lisa did so almost without thinking.

When the stewardess walked away, he turned the straw in her drink and slowly sucked a good quarter of it down. She watched him in horrified fascination, her grip locked around the small glass.

"Cover the side so they can't see the level going down." Jackson said, prying the glass out of her tight grip and moving it so her palm covered the drink.

"This is just…" she was beginning to freak out. Taking several deep breaths, Lisa turned her gaze to look out the window.

The clouds were far below them, and it looked like their destination was a long way off…

"Ahhh." Jackson sat up, finished. "Put it in the cup holder. I'd like to save the rest for later." When she didn't move, he forced her hand and pried her fingers off the glass. "Come on, Leese. Play along."

"It's just so…bizarre." she whispered, blinking slightly.

He laughed at that; laughed so hard he nearly teared up. "Oh, come on."

"I'm serious!" she hissed.

"So am I." he suddenly snapped back into ice-mode. "Now. Have you made your decision yet?"

She jumped slightly, startled. "I – uh…what…what do I have to do?"

Jackson pointed. "He's sitting directly in front of you." he removed a small case from his pocket, sliding out something thin and small that glinted in the dim light. "Do you know what this is?"

Her heart hammered to a stop. "N-no."

"I think you do. It's called a garroting wire, Leese, and you're going to use it to slice open his throat. Almost like you did mine." he said, brushing two fingers of his left hand unconsciously over the hollow in his neck.

"Wh…why can't you do it?" she whispered, keeping her voice low as the man's head in front of her bounced in the uneasy sleep of someone on a turbulent flight.

Jackson made a little face and made as if to slit the man's throat. Lisa held her breath. As he pulled, however, the wire slid through the man's neck…and out of the back of the seat, completely clean. "For better or for worse, I can't kill anyone in this state…"

Suddenly the wire was at her throat and she could feel it. Feel a slight trickle of blood run down her neck. He stooped to catch it on his tongue, leaving a hot and cold, wet sensation when he pulled back. She shivered.

"…but I can do it to you." he said, tucking the wire tin into his pocket. "You won't need this until you actually kill him. And there's nothing you can do about it, so don't even try."

She trembled slightly and then a few tears began to run down her cheeks.

"Ohhh, no. Don't try that again. Every time a woman cries, a man is being lied to." Jackson said in a disgusted sort-of way. "I'm not falling for that shit again."

Lisa glared at him. It was tears of anger, not sorrow, this time. The intensity in her eyes would have scared him if not for the simple fact that she was a woman. And now, being dead, it _really_ couldn't affect him either way any more. "I hate you."

"I know." he smiled, in a self-satisfied sort-of way. "I also know that you _need_ me."

"_WHAT_?" she hissed, completely taken aback.

"Motive. Whenever you have to do something you know you're going to hate. You think about me. And you think about how I bullied you and berated you and how you finally 'rose above' me." he said, half-scowling. "I watched you. I know every little look now – what you're thinking when you look a certain way."

Lisa was absolutely terrified. Horrified. Here was an enemy whom she ultimately couldn't defeat. She couldn't outmuscle him, couldn't outmaneuver him, couldn't outrun him – and from the looks of it – couldn't outwit him. Not a second time. Not even in death had she stopped him, not really.

"Come on now." he said softly, offering her the wire. "Do it while he's sleeping, then pull up his scarf. No one will ever know it was you, because I'll keep the evidence." he smiled, moving his hand closer and closer…

She stood up abruptly. "I have to use the washroom." she said hurriedly, nearly jumping over him and rushing to the tiny room, slamming the door shut and locking it behind her.

* * *

_To Be Continued…_


	4. 12:01 am

_Disclaimer: I own no part of Red Eye, and am in no way earning any profit off this story. It is fan fiction, and is written for enjoyment, not monetary gain._

* * *

_This chapter is rated M for sexual content. _

* * *

12:01 am.

Wednesday.

_Breathe, Lisa, breathe. _she told herself. _You won't get anywhere by hyperventilating and passing out._

She paused to peer at the mirror. No, that wouldn't work. It would force the plane to land if she wrote anything down. Plus, Jackson would find out anyway, and be even more pissed off at her. He'd probably force her to slit that guy's throat before she did anything else…

"H'lo, Leese." said a pleasant male voice. She turned her head, leaning against the wall.

Jackson was coming through the door – literally _through_ it, his ghost-like body passed through the metal effortlessly. "Thinking of writing another soap-message?"

"Don't be stupid." she snapped without thinking. "I don't like being strangled."

He laughed. "It was only a question, Lisa. You don't have to get so upset."

She turned away, sitting down on the closed toilet seat. "I'm not going to do that again; it would be pointless and would probably only make things worse."

"Now you're thinking straight. See? All it takes is a little logic and suddenly your I.Q. jumps about fifty points."

She scowled up at him. "Don't give me your male chauvinist bull_shit_. I outsmarted you last time, and it cost you your life."

Jackson slapped her. Across the face. Hard. She heard it before she felt it. Almost sent her into shock. Lisa gasped when she felt the fire spread across her cheek.

"Ahhh!" she cried out. It literally felt as if it were burning. She grabbed it, scrabbled with it. It felt to her fingertips as normal as could be, the fire was under her skin, or inside her head. Her eyes watered.

"Will you shut up now?" he smirked. She pretended she hadn't heard him. She quirked an eyebrow and leaned forward. "Wh-what was that?" Lisa asked, forcing her stiff tongue to form the words.

He positively sizzled with anger and frustration. She leaned back and rested her burning cheek against the cool airplane bathroom wall. It was soothing, and the fiery sensation soon died away. She let out a long, quavering sigh and closed her eyes. "So…what's your next move?"

Suddenly she was up on her feet, back to the wall. Jackson had her by the waist and was kissing her mouth harshly; she tried to scream but it got lost somewhere along the way. She was rapidly running out of oxygen and began shoving against his chest. _NO, NO, NO, NO, NO - _

He moved off her mouth and she gasped, panting for air and still trying to push him away, kicking and punching. "Get off get off get off!" she hissed, trying to summon up enough air to scream.

He looked up and slid his face micrometers from hers. "You scream and they'll think you're insane. They'll watch you. And if you don't kill that man…they'll land the plane." he chuckled.

She felt her eyes burn. _NO! You will not cry. You will not…feel…shame…_

Jackson slid his lips down her throat, unbuttoning the top layer of her suit jacket to reveal the scar on her breast. He latched onto that spot with his mouth, licking and kissing and sucking there warmly.

She shivered, trying to ignore the almost-nice feeling that it produced, letting her arms fall down limply to her sides. "No…" she whispered.

"Mmmm." he lifted his head, kissing her lips again; this time he went much slower, softer. It was almost sweet and loving, making her guts roil with confusion. _No, no, stop – oh, please, somebody – make him stop…_

Lisa felt his hands on her thighs, slowly sliding upwards and she renewed her struggles. She bit her lip to keep from screaming; what good would it do her? He didn't have to hold a knife to her throat to make her be quiet; her own sense of self-preservation was enough to make her keep her mouth shut.

By the time he'd lifted up her skirt and undone his own pants and was inside of her, she realized with dawning horror that it didn't hurt – her body had been preparing itself thoroughly without her even noticing. She was afraid, but at the same time, it had an almost numbing, calming feeling. Maybe…maybe this wasn't going to be…

Jackson grew rougher in his thrusts, grunting with exertion, sweat trickling down his brow.

"Say something! Say something!" he panted, growling and trying so hard to hold back.

Her head snapped up, eyes wide open.

"Jack the Ripper." she whispered softly, and he came with a choking, shuddering sob.

It was different, as a ghost – or whatever he was. Much more tiring. Much more draining. Jackson sagged against her, slick forehead resting in the crook between her neck and left shoulder. His hands, which had been gripping her hips so tightly, felt numb. He let his arms drop, and then suddenly noticed something.

Her hands, which hand been – for as much as he could remember – lying limp against the wall, were busy; one rested on his lower back softly, the other was gently stroking his sweaty hair back out of his face.

Lisa's initial shock and fear had turned to sad acceptance, but it had gone one step further – tenderness, for some reason that Jackson couldn't understand. She held him gently; the only sound in the air was their breathing.

And for a moment, all was serene, and peaceful.

* * *

_To Be Continued…_


	5. 12:32 am

_Disclaimer: I own no part of Red Eye, and am in no way earning any profit off this story. It is fan fiction, and is written for enjoyment, not monetary gain._

* * *

12:32 am. 

Wednesday.

There was suddenly a loud bang, a gunshot.

"**There's going to be a change in flight plans, folks. We're taking over**."

Jackson and Lisa's heads both shot up at the exact same time.

"Oh, _shit_." they both hissed together.

Then Jackson pressed a quieting finger to her lips, and she nodded. Carefully he slid out of her, doing up his pants and slipped through the door. She waited inside with baited breath.

When he came back in, he looked deeply disturbed.

"They're not anyone I recognize. My people deal in stealth, not semiautomatics." he said, quietly and calmly. "This is all falling apart as we speak…"

"Do they know about…your bomb?" Lisa whispered.

"_No_, because they're ordering the pilot to land the _fucking_ plane!" he hissed, throwing his arms up in the air.

Her eyes widened. "Go disarm it!"

He shook his head, his eyes haunted. "I already tried. It seems that I can't touch _it_ either."

She trembled and grabbed onto his shoulders. "Wh-where is it? We _have_ to try again!"

"It's in the cargo bay below us." he frowned. "There's an emergency hatch near the back of the plane you could probably squeeze through…"

"We have to go disarm it. Now." Lisa whispered, clutching at his shoulders and searching his eyes.

She found fear.

"I can't touch it, but I can tell you what to do with it." he whispered. "Hang on…"

He went through the door again. "They're all up in the cockpit right now. There's only three guards, and none are looking this way. Hurry! Quickly!"

Lisa scampered out the bathroom, nearly sliding on the slippery metal floor, but she made it. Jackson kept a look out as she figured out how to climb down into the bay off a tiny ladder going down.

As soon as she touched bottom she shivered. "Jack, get down here quick! I'll freeze in a few minutes!"

"Huh?" he asked, climbing down.

"We're in the stratosphere…it's freezing cold and I don't have a jacket!" she hissed, rubbing her arms as she felt the chill spread through her. "And…and the pressure…is much…lower." she blinked. "Shit! I can barely concentrate…we'd better get this done fast!"

He grunted with disgust and exasperation as he half-led, half-dragged her over to the box where the bomb was. "Human frailty makes me ill."

"Shut up, you were human once too." she rolled her eyes and then shivered again, stronger this time. Her teeth chattered.

He said nothing, but opened the box and let out an angry little whining-noise when his hand passed right through the bomb itself.

It wasn't too complicated, but in her state Lisa could barely tell which wires went where.

"Quick, tell me what I have to do!" she whispered, barely able to stop her fingers from shaking as she reached out to lift the bomb out.

"Pull out this wire – no, THIS one! – Put it there, yes, now just rip out the blue wire – no, blue, BLUE! Yes that's it. Just let it fall, it's not important…"

As they went on it got harder and harder to concentrate; the cold and low air pressure was making her sleepy.

"Can't we just…break for a bit?" she said, slumping down and shivering weakly. "M'cold and tired…" she slurred.

He slapped her across the face, panic in his features. "Wake up! Wake up! You've only got one more to go!"

She jolted herself awake. "This one goes where?"

"Here! No, here! Augh, there's no time – they're already dipping down!" Jackson began to panic, until he saw the hatch on the wall of the plane. "We have to throw it out the side!"

"Wh-what?" she blinked, trying to stand. She fell to her knees. Already she could feel her heartbeat slowing down from cold and lack of oxygen.

"Shit, shit, shit! You can't die on me! Not here! Not now!" Jackson was nearly in hysterics. "Get up, get up!" he hurried over to the side and to his relief – managed to get the door open. They were still in some part of the clouds, and rippling, dark blue-black storm clouds clashed around them. "Get over here and throw it out! I can't do it!" he cried.

Lisa heard him somewhere in the recesses of her foggy mind, gathering the bomb in her arms and slowly – like some sort of demented whale beaching itself – dragged herself over to the side of the plane. The wind whipped her as she went, and she shuddered, nearly losing consciousness.

"No, shit, no, Leese, don't die on me!" Jackson nearly whimpered, pulling her back. "Let go of it! Let go of it; gravity and pressure will do the rest!"

She let go of the bomb, and stayed conscious just long enough to see it whipped out of the plane and disappear into the clouds. She had time enough to wonder vaguely if they were above sea or land, and where it would fall, and what it would do when it got there. She tilted her head as Jackson closed the door, blinking slowly.

And then she blacked out.

"_**NOOOOO**_!" Jackson let out a long, horrible wail and literally attacked her body, trying to make her wake up again.

Someone came down the ladder. "Shit! Looks like someone was trying to escape!"

There was a laugh. "Idiot. Well, she's another hostage we can take. Make sure she stays alive."

Jackson watched in horror and misery as Lisa's barely-alive body was taken back up the ladder, following dismally behind, wondering hopelessly what would become of them now.

* * *

_To Be Continued…_


	6. 1:45 am

_Disclaimer: I own no part of Red Eye, and am in no way earning any profit off this story. It is fan fiction, and is written for enjoyment, not monetary gain._

* * *

_Phrases in bold indicate voices over a loudspeaker; specifically the terrorists. _

_Phrases in italics are Lisa's communications with Jackson._

* * *

1:45 am.

Wednesday.

Much to Jackson's surprise (and immense relief, though he'd never admit it for any personal reasons), they wrapped Lisa up in a blanket and simply put her back in her seat. He sat down beside her, sighing when he realized that yet another mission had been ruined by one woman's stubbornness.

He resolved that next time he'd find someone else to haunt and do it for him.

She began to twitch and murmur not long afterwards, and eventually she opened her eyes. He looked over at her with no small amount of relief.

"Leese – " he almost choked as he fought back the urge to say _thank God you're all right_.

Her brow furrowed lightly, and then she sighed and snuggled under the blanket for warmth.

_I win_. she mouthed to him, grinning a little crazily.

"Did you hit your head when you passed out?" Jackson scowled, good mood flying immediately out the window. "This flight isn't over yet. You're still going to kill him."

_Not under their supervision, I'm not. _she mouthed, shaking her head. She found, if she directed her thoughts and narrowed her eyes, she could almost send her messages telepathically to him. _And now that you don't have a bomb threat, it's practically pointless._

He gritted his teeth. "Don't you dare test me. He has to die."

_Why? _she mouthed. _Why does this guy have to die? Why do you want him dead so badly?_

"He's a spy. He has information and it's critical that the government – does – not – find – out." Jackson hissed through his teeth.

_Why? Is it personal? Does it have something to do with **you**?_ she communicated, barely moving her lips, yet somehow knowing Jackson could hear – and understand – every word.

He drew back into himself and said nothing.

_It IS personal. _she blinked, eyes going wide. _What are you not telling me?_

"Shut up." he snarled, turning round in his seat and crossing his arms across his chest tightly. "It's none of your business."

She fought the urge to smirk. _But right now, it's very much my business, because my business is very much about you._

Jackson buried his face in his hands. "Not – fucking – funny."

"**All right people, we're gonna land in a few minutes. Everybody make sure your seat belt is done up**."

Lisa struggled out of the blanket and did up her seat belt, wrapping the blanket back around her shoulders, trying to get warm again.

"It's still cold…" she murmured out loud.

"Oh, shall I find you a hot-water bottle? Maybe some tea?" Jackson rolled his eyes. He jerked and jumped slightly as the plane shifted and took a rather steep dive. "Hurrrgh…"

Lisa's eyes widened and she repressed the urge to giggle. _You can get airsick? Can you throw up, if you're a ghost?_

"Oh shut up!" he yelped, clutching the sides of the seat as the plane lurched and bounced, finally hitting the ground and coming to a stop. "Lord above…"

_And lead us not into the bathroom, but deliver us from nausea…_

"Shut the FUCK up!" he roared, bent nearly double and clutching at his stomach. "It isn't fucking airsickness! Something else is wrong!"

Her grin became a concerned frown. _Jack?_

He was shivering slightly; a few beads of sweat trickled down his brow and fell onto his trousers, leaving dark stains.

"Jack…you're bleeding." she whispered aloud, eyes wide with shock and horror.

He pressed his hands to his face; his tears and sweat came away the brackish – but still recognizable red-brown – color of old blood.

"Shit…" he whispered, his eyes growing as big as saucers. "Wh-what's happening to me?"

* * *

_To Be Continued…_

_Just in case you're counting, this is the shortest chapter...with 666 words...not including this explanation...just in case!_


	7. 2:04 am

_Disclaimer: I own no part of Red Eye, and am in no way earning any profit off this story. It is fan fiction, and is written for enjoyment, not monetary gain._

* * *

_Phrases in italics are Lisa's communications with Jackson._

* * *

2: 04 am. 

Wednesday.

"Jack? Jack? What's wrong, Jack?"

"Hey you! Be quiet back there!" one of the guards came up the aisle and glared at her.

She shrank down and played scared of him; it didn't hurt that she was terrified of what was happening to Jackson. "Talk again and you'll spend the rest of our time unconscious."

She nodded ferverently, eyes wide. He continued to walk down the aisle, his semiautomatic cocked in hand.

She hesitantly reached out a hand and touched Jackson's forehead. The blood stuck to her hand and she wiped it off on the blanket after smelling it. Yes. It was definitely blood, but it reeked of something she hadn't smelled in years, not since junior biology where she had to dissect a –

_Jack. Your blood reeks of formaldehyde. _she narrowed her eyes in an accusatory way. _What's going on?_

"I don't fucking – _yeuchh_!" he retched, spewing up a mouthful of the same brackish fluids. He was shaking, convulsing almost. The seat in front of him dripped with it.

_Shit, Jack. If you don't tell me what's going on we're going to be in deep trouble…_

He looked at her, coughing lightly and then retched again, managing to lean over his knees. When he was finished he let the ends of it dribble out of his mouth, spitting slightly.

"Nothing is – ugh." he convulsed again but didn't throw up. Instead, his nose began to bleed slightly.

She made a face, and then pulled him into her seat, pushing his face against her shoulder – she was still wrapped in the dark blanket, hoping it would hide the stains – in lieu of pinching it shut.

_Press against it. Try and stop the bleeding. I need you to tell me what's going on; I need to know what that man knows and why you're not telling me!_

"Fine." he finally said, quietly, though his nose – being pinched – obscured some of his syllables. "Fine. I didn't exactly tell you the whole truth before. When you shot me, I didn't die. Where you shot me in the chest, with a proper surgeon, I should've been able to live."

_But you didn't. _she looked up, slowly. It was finally dawning on her – the realization that all was _not_ well with the world of Jackson Rippner. _You didn't live. _

"I failed in my mission. I paid the ultimate price for that."

She nodded silently, closing her eyes. _Death. _she murmured.

"Yes." he coughed slightly and she pressed his head closer into her shoulder, feeling the blood flow finally let up. "They found me in the hospital, still recovering from my impromptu tracheotomy. They didn't want me questioned; they didn't want me in court. So they pumped my body full of chemicals – including formaldehyde – and then left me there to die a horrible, screaming, yet silent death."

Her stomach felt queasy. She shivered slightly as he convulsed again, but this time it wasn't so strong. He lifted his head back; he was no longer bleeding from any orifice.

Jackson moved off her in silence, sitting back down in his own seat. "The rest of it is true. They burned my body because no one stepped forward to claim it and pay for a decent coffin."

_I…I didn't know._

"Of course you didn't know, I didn't tell you." he said crossly. "I didn't…I didn't want you to know." he said quietly. "I didn't think it would leave me like…this." he gestured to the blood that was on his jacket, pants, floor, seat and her blanket.

_Well it did. _she let out a long breath. _So now what?_

"I'm fresh out of ideas right now." Jackson frowned. "Only thing I can think of is waiting until we're released.

_If._ She had a horrible thought right then; an image of them all massacred on the plane because the terrorists weren't paid. _If we're released._

"Don't be stupid, of course we're going to be released." Jackson frowned, pulling out a napkin from the seat in front of him and wiping down his shirt, trying to clean it off.

_You can't know that for sure. _She blinked. _Wait a minute…_

"Wait a minute what?"

_Ghost? Possession? Ring a bell?_ she thought excitedly.

His eyes got very big. "Uh-uh! Not a _chance_! I'm _not_ moving into one of their bodies just so you can find out what their plans are!"

She gave him a _look_. One which clearly said, **_if you don't get up there and find out what's going to happen, I'll make you wish you'd been born a girl_**.

He gulped, straightened his jacket, and took off down the aisle.

"She's going to regret this." he muttered to himself.

* * *

_To Be Continued…_


	8. 2:45 am

_Disclaimer: I own no part of Red Eye, and am in no way earning any profit off this story. It is fan fiction, and is written for enjoyment, not monetary gain._

* * *

_Phrases in bold indicate voices over a loudspeaker; specifically the terrorists. _

_Phrases in italics are Lisa's communications with Jackson._

_

* * *

_

2:45 am.

Wednesday.

As Jackson moved down the aisle he found himself wondering how on earth he was going to possess someone – and how in God's name he was going to find out what their plan was.

Shaking his head furtively he kept going, only casting a glance once back over his shoulder at the half-scowling, half-exuberant Lisa, who appeared to be either cheering him on or threatening him with a fate worse than death.

Which was going to be hard to accomplish, if this was what it was going to be like for the rest of eternity.

He grunted to himself and turned back, but not without first walking straight through one of the guards.

He jumped in shock as he heard a stream of words pass through his head when he walked through the man. Pausing, he stood back and frowned.

Was it really that easy?

Taking a breath like a diver before the plunge, he stepped forward and slid into the man's body, filling up every nook and cranny with his own spirit.

It was a loose fit – the man was bigger than he was, in ways more than one. Jackson decidedly ignored this fact and went straight to his head.

It felt like he was in a computer. All he had to do was ask it what he wanted and the information came rushing to him. As he contemplated what this could mean, he shook himself mentally and began collecting as much information as he could possibly get. He didn't want to spend any more time inside this man than was absolutely necessary.

Lisa, on the other hand, was growing more and more nervous. She'd seen Jackson vanish almost like a puff of smoke into one of the guards that was leaning against the wall. It didn't look like any kind of possession she'd ever seen in movies; he was still looking around grimly, still looking every inch the trigger-happy, itchy-fingered brute he was.

When Jackson emerged from the man's body Lisa breathed a visible sigh of relief.

He walked back down the aisle, with a rather shaken look on his face.

"Well?" she murmured as he sat down beside her once more. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything the loudspeaker came on.

"**Our demands so far have not been met. Therefore, we will draw lots for execution – one per hour. If you hear your seat number, you will be taken out by our guards and killed. Do not attempt to resist; you will be killed**."

"Oh. Shit." Lisa whispered, pressing her hands over her mouth.

"I could've told you that." Jackson said, a touch of sarcasm in his shaky voice.

"Shut up." she shivered slightly, tearing up a little. "They're…they're going to kill us all…"

"Snap out of it!" he argued, feeling like he wanted to slap her. "This is a 767! There are so many seats!"

They called out a number; it was nowhere near Lisa. Somewhere near the front of the plane they heard a muffled, "Ready, fire!" and a retort.

Lisa buried her face in her hands, shivering.

"Come on!" Jackson hissed, shaking her vigorously. "We can get out of here! I know we can!"  
She looked at him with accusatory eyes. "And what about all these people?"

Jackson sighed. "What about them?"

She sat back stonily in her seat. "If you're not going to save all of them, then you can't save any of them."

"_What_?" he hissed, shaking her again. "Are you _insane_? You'll never be able to save all these people!"

"Maybe I can't." she said, standing up, her heart beating rapidly. "But I think you can."

He nearly screeched. "**_WHAT_**?"

"You there! Why are you standing?"

"I'm volunteering. You can kill me next." she said slowly and clearly.

"You're an idiot." one of the men sneered.

"Let her have her way." said another.

She stood in the aisle, waiting until finally they told her to come down to them.

Jackson followed her, nearly tearing his hair out. "You're **_MAD_**!"

_Come on, Jack. Think. There's something you can do, and you should do it right now._

He shuddered. "But – "

_Jack, they're going to shoot me. I'm going to die. And then what use am I going to be to you?_

Shit. She was right.

He took a deep breath.

"I hope to God you know what you're doing."

He took a step. And then another.

* * *

_To Be Continued…_


	9. 3:15 am

_Disclaimer: I own no part of Red Eye, and am in no way earning any profit off this story. It is fan fiction, and is written for enjoyment, not monetary gain._

* * *

_Phrases in italics are Lisa's communications with Jackson._

_Phrases in bold are loudspeaker announcements._

* * *

3:15 am. 

Wednesday.

Lisa walked slowly down the aisle towards the men, trembling slightly with fear – but also with anticipation. Once she'd gotten to the end of the row the men closed in on her slightly, moving away with her to an open spot.

"Why are you volunteering to die?" one asked her cruelly as a few raised their weapons and trained them on her.

She lowered her head. "I…I just…"

There was a sudden bang – Lisa dropped to the floor and scrambled backwards as confusion broke out and the screams started.

She found herself being dragged backwards; looking up she saw Jackson put a finger to his lips and helped her crawl towards the back of the plane.

"Well done." she whispered, chuckling weakly.

"Trust me; you never want to have to possess one of _their_ bodies." Jackson shuddered, making a face. "So…so callous. Nothing graceful or refined about their methods at all. They're like animals…"

She bit her lip to stifle laughter, and tugged the pant legs of people she passed. They looked down, she gestured for them to follow her while the guards were all distracted.

Leading them to the back door, she pushed it open. They were on the ground, on a large tarmac area, but there were a few small buildings nearby, and beyond that, Lisa could hear police sirens.

"Go!" she whispered, and people began jumping out of the plane.

She'd gotten a good thirty or forty people out by the time the shooting stopped. She shut the door and hurried back to her seat, shaking again slightly, Jackson by her side.

"You really _are _mad, aren't you?" he blinked.

"Hush." she said, shaking her head as the guards clomped back up the aisles. Some were bleeding profusely, others looked dazed and about to collapse.

"**There will be no more executions**."

Lisa sighed with relief.

"**However we will be receiving reinforcements in a few moments. Guard will be heavier, and we suggest that you do NOT try any more clever tricks. They won't work this time.**"

And then the speakers fell silent.

Lisa huddled in her seat under the blanket. It was still very, very early in the morning and she was tired, cold, hungry, and miserable. Her knees hurt and quite suddenly she realized she was…wet.

Blinking slightly, she bent over and examined herself.

_Dammit. _

"What?" Jackson asked, startled by her mental blast of frustration.

_My period started. Fuck! _She squeezed her thighs together and grunted.

"Uh…oh, lord above." he moaned lightly, putting a hand on his forehead. "Just what we need…more blood."

"Shut up." she hissed lightly, then as a guard passed she looked up. "Um excuse me, I've just…um…I've just started my period. I need to use the washroom."

He gave her a blank look. Luckily he wasn't one of the guards Jackson and she had thwarted.

"I'm going to bleed all over the seat if you don't let me use the washroom!" she protested, finding a leftover napkin and swiping at it, holding it up for him to see.

"Jeezus." he leaned back slightly, waving his gun in the direction of the washroom. "Get!"

She needed no further instructions – getting up she ran into the washroom and locked the door, sitting down on the toilet and taking off her bloody undergarments.

Jackson leaned against the wall. "That's so utterly creepy…"

"Yeah, well, the men work the mines and the women make the babies." she said dryly, wadding up toilet paper and using it as a temporary pad as she washed the blood out. "I didn't think it was happening tonight. But I guess with my stress levels…it sped it up a bit." she scowled. "Dammit. And of course no 'sanitary napkin' dispenser. Looks like I'm stuck in here for a while."

"As long as I don't have to look at it the whole time. Yuck." Jackson made a face. "Glad I'm not a woman."

"Yeah, well, deal with it. THIS is why men will never outlast women; they're too squeamish." she poked fun at him as she dried her underwear with the blower.

"Hey!" he protested. Then, quite suddenly, he coughed and blood splattered her shirt. "Ugh…"

"Shit. Oh, no, not again…" she murmured, looking from her ruined white blouse to his pale face and shaking form.

"It's…it's worse…" he managed, stumbling over to the toilet and retching into there.

She bit her lip and rubbed his back lightly, trying to get his tense muscles to ease up so he wouldn't fight and bleed so much. "Stay calm. If you seize up too much you'll cough up more blood…"

He tried to relax, but it was hard. His body was wracked with spasms of pain, his head was spinning, and his knees shook. They gave way and he hit the ground hard, moaning in pain as he leaned his forehead against the cool metal wall of the washroom. "What's…what's happening to me?"

"I don't know." she sighed, kneeling beside him and rubbing his back lightly to try and ease his hurting body. "I wish I knew…"

* * *

_To Be Continued…_


	10. 4:00 am

_Disclaimer: I own no part of Red Eye, and am in no way earning any profit off this story. It is fan fiction, and is written for enjoyment, not monetary gain._

* * *

_Phrases in italics are Lisa's communications with Jackson._

_Phrases in bold are loudspeaker announcements._

* * *

4:00 am. 

Wednesday.

While Lisa was rubbing Jackson's back and trying to get the blood flow to stop, the problems on the rest of the plane were getting worse. Tensions were building, and everyone was nervous. One could swear they could hear a pin drop.

Eventually the young man sitting in front of Lisa's seat expressed his needs to a guard – a different one than had talked to Lisa – and made his way to the small bathroom. Aaron Merton, the CIA agent, was going to do a little reflection.

Lisa had no knowledge of this, and was, at this time, trying to convince Jackson to keep his head turned whilst she removed her shirt and washed it.

"If you turn around and look at me, I swear – "

"Woah!" Merton did a double-take as he opened the door. Lisa jumped slightly and wrapped her soaking shirt around her chest. She opened her mouth to scream but he locked the door and covered her mouth.

"What the – what are you doing to her?" Jackson tried to pull them apart but his hands went right through the man. He suddenly felt very, very sick, but this wasn't the blood-illness. This was something different. He bit his lip.

"All right. No screaming. I'm gonna take my hand away from your mouth, and you're gonna be quiet. Got it?"

She nodded quickly. He let her go, leaning back against the door. She fiddled with her shirt.

He rolled his eyes. "But why did you take it off in the first place?"

"I, um, had a nosebleed. I'm on my period." she shrugged.

"Some nosebleed." he raised his eyebrows at the brackish red-brown stain on the front of her shirt. "You know that hot water only makes blood stay in the fabric."

Her eyes widened. "Shit!" she exclaimed, turning her back to rinse it in cold water.

Merton stared luridly at her back and Jackson scowled.

"Lisa, he's watching you."

_Jack? Do us all a favor and try and think of a way to get him out of here. Who is this guy, anyway?_

"The CIA agent I want you to kill."

She froze visually.

"Are you all right? Ma'am?" Merton raised an eyebrow.

"I'm fine." she said calmly, keeping her voice low. _Shit, Jack! What should I do?_

"The obvious thing would be to kill him."

_Where would I hide his body, idiot? _she snarled mentally. _We're on a plane that's been hijacked by terrorists!_

"That's NOT my fault." he gritted through his teeth.

Merton, of course, couldn't tell any of this was going on.

"Wait a minute…you're Lisa Reisart, aren't you?" he cocked his head.

"Yes, I am." Lisa said calmly, finishing with her shirt and putting it under the blower and turned it on. She turned and crossed her arms over her bra, facing him. "How do you know me?"

"I'm Aaron Merton – you were held hostage for a time by a man named Jackson Rippner, correct?"

She nodded, controlling her emotions much better than Jackson had ever seen her do. "Yes."

"I was assigned to his case. Odd man, that one." Merton furrowed his brow. "The people he worked for did a lot of…strange things."

"Really?" she asked coolly. "Are you going to tell me?"

"Hey, hey stop!" Jackson waved his arms in front of Merton's face, but the agent didn't even bat an eye. "You can't say that!"

"Chemical experiments and such. How to heighten emotions, how to drain them, mind-controlling drugs, how to kill more efficiently." Merton nodded. "I'm on my way to HQ to report one of their most idiotic – and dangerous – activities."

"No, stop! You can't!" Jackson was nearly begging now, Lisa could swear she almost saw tears in his eyes.

"Which was?" she leaned against the sink.

"Using some of the more…creative ones on Rippner. Experimenting with biological enhancements, preservatives, stimulants, toxins. He had enough crap pumped into his body to fuel a small country." Merton said with a snort. "He was half-insane by the time you met him, and his body was already beginning to break down. One of the things he was going to get out of the Keefe assassination was the remedy to one of the deadlier toxins he'd put in his body. If he hadn't been shot and subsequently died, his body would've rotted, and destroyed itself from the inside-out."

Lisa covered her mouth with her hands, eyes blurring with tears. "Dear God."

Jackson was leaning against the wall, facing away from them. He wasn't moving, but Lisa could hear his breathing was heavy and ragged. It almost sounded like he was trying hard not to cry…

"**Attention all passengers; we must take off again. Fasten your seat belts.**"

Lisa and Merton looked at each other. "Go, get!" she said, pushing him out the door and locking it behind herself again.

She turned to the other man in the corner.

"Jack…" she whispered quietly.

He said nothing, didn't even turn around. She felt her shirt; it wasn't even half dry yet. She couldn't go back out, so she'd have to stay in the bathroom as the plane took off…

* * *

_To Be Continued…_


	11. 4:49 am

_Disclaimer: I own no part of Red Eye, and am in no way earning any profit off this story. It is fan fiction, and is written for enjoyment, not monetary gain._

* * *

_Phrases in italics are Lisa's communications with Jackson._

_Phrases in bold are loudspeaker announcements._

* * *

4:49 am.

Wednesday.

Take-off in a washroom was not a pleasant experience for either Lisa or Jackson.  
Her stomach lurched and she sat down hard on the toilet seat, clutching the sides and feeling very vulnerable. Her state of dress left something to be desired, in ways more than one – she wore only her mid-thigh length skirt and bra – both her blouse and panties were drying under the blow-dryer.

Jackson on the other hand, was still fully dressed, but was pale as a sheet and even slightly green.

"J-Jack?" she murmured, one hand on her stomach, the other reaching out to touch his sleeve. He was still facing the wall, clinging to the overhang. "Jack…talk to me. I need a distraction."

"Distraction, huh? You want a fucking _distraction_?" he hissed angrily, shoving her arm away. He turned and faced her. "Don't talk to me. You weren't supposed to know. You were supposed to think I was nothing but a hardened criminal mastermind who was in it for the money and couldn't care less."

She looked down and gasped as the plane swayed back and forth; obviously there was some turbulence. "Why? Do you think it would've made a difference?" she asked, looking up accusingly. "Maybe if I'd have known your life was on the line – "

"My life would've been on the line in any case!" he howled. "With a job like mine, if you fail your mission you're dead anyway, _do you understand me_, **_DEAD_**!"

She winced and shied away a bit from the force of his voice. He was still clearly in a lot of pain, and was wavering slightly on his feet. "M-maybe you should sit – "

He nearly collapsed into her lap, she jumped slightly and then held onto his shoulders and back as the plane rocked alarmingly and nearly felt like it was going to fall out of the sky.

"Can't they fly this thing properly?" she muttered, unconsciously stroking Jackson's back. He said something quietly, something she couldn't quite make out. "What was that?"

"I said, let me up." He looked up into her face, raising his eyebrows. She realized that when he'd fallen, he'd landed with his face right between her –

She jumped up and pushed him away in shock. "Ack!"

"My point." he leaned unsteadily against the sink and tried not to retch again as the plane dipped.

"Well, I…" she let out a huff of a breath. "Never mind." she got up and checked her clothing – still wet.

"Stupid blow-dryers never work!" she grumped, sighing and sitting back down again. She made a slight face. "Ooog."

"What's wrong now?"

"Cramps."

He made a face – much worse than hers – and let out a slight whimper of disgust. "Ugh."

"Wimp."

"Hey!" he protested.

"Men fear women's reproductive systems."

"We do _not_!"

"Do _too_!"

Lisa chuckled dryly and clenched her teeth slightly as another slight wave of discomfort forced her to remain still. It didn't help that the airplane was moving like a bucking bronco. "Nghh."

Jackson softened slightly. "Did you bring, uh, Advil or anything?"

"I didn't think I'd get it. No, I didn't bring anything." she sighed. "It's not that bad – it's not constant – more like rolling waves every few minutes or so. I've never had very…ugh. Painful ones." she admitted.

"Oh." he swallowed, then fiddled with his hands, almost as if he didn't know where to put them. "Well…is there anything I can do?"

It was the first thing that came to her. She blamed hormones; supposedly there was a release of some kind of bio-chemical that put women into overdrive when they were bleeding…

Lisa stood up and pulled Jackson towards her, taking his hand and putting it _exactly _where she needed it.

He let out a little shriek of horror and started to pull back, but she leaned on him, sighing and pressing up against his body, which by now had been forced backward into the wall.

"External pressure usually helps…" she murmured into the crook between his neck and shoulder.

He gawked for a moment, feeling rather like a statue, before really realizing where his hand really was. All of a sudden the blood didn't seem to matter so much because his hand was _on_ her and then he slid it _into _her and _she was letting him do it_ and it was _amazing_. It was tighter and slicker and hotter than he could ever have possibly imagined. This was _incredible._

She moaned slightly and held onto his shoulders as he moved his fingers and suddenly he was _right there_…

"Oh God." she gasped, reaching her peak hard and her knees wobbled slightly. He caught her and held her up with his other arm; he then slowly pulled his fingers back out.

He stared at them for a moment, and then chuckled slightly. "Do _not_." he smiled slightly.

And then the lights flickered.

They both looked up and watched the light in the bathroom flicker on and off.

"**We appear to be having some problems with our fuel. We suspect sabotage. We will commence random executions again.**"

"Shit."

They both hurried over to the sink; Jackson washed his hand clean while Lisa put back on her now-dry clothing, stocking up on tissues in case she leaked later on, then they both hurried out of the washroom and back down the aisle to their seats.

* * *

_To Be Continued…_


	12. 5:55 am

_Disclaimer: I own no part of Red Eye, and am in no way earning any profit off this story. It is fan fiction, and is written for enjoyment, not monetary gain._

* * *

_Phrases in italics are Lisa's communications with Jackson._

_Phrases in bold are loudspeaker announcements._

* * *

5:55 am.

Wednesday.

As Lisa buckled up again, she noticed that the CIA agent wasn't in his seat. In fact, as she looked around, she couldn't see him anywhere.

"Merton?" she whispered, peering over the seats to try and spot him.

"I see him." Jackson said dully.

"Where?" she whispered.

"The terrorists have got him. I think they know he's a CIA – "

There was the brief sound of gunfire, than silence.

" – well, either way, mission accomplished."

Lisa suddenly felt hot and sick; anger coursing through her body. Confused, hurting, and exhausted from her ordeals, she leaned back against the seat and pulled the blanket up. Hot tears she didn't know she had left fell down her cheeks and she closed her eyes to stem their flow.

"It wasn't fair. I didn't…they didn't…"

"Well, I'm satisfied. You won't go telling my secrets to the government, will you Leese? I think I'll stay here, just to make sure of that." he nodded to himself, sitting back in the chair.

Lisa made a face as her cramps got slightly stronger, making her feel ill as the plane dipped slightly. She suddenly recalled the fact that they were running out of fuel…she wondered vaguely if they'd have to make a forced landing somewhere, or if they'd crash. Both seemed equally unappealing.

_Jack, can you go and – _

"NO." he said, narrowing his eyes. "I'm NOT possessing one of them – not ever again! It was horrible."

"Horrible like when I was bleeding all over your fingers?"

He swallowed and she opened her eyes a crack; she was surprised to see his cheeks go a slight shade of red.

"What. Oh, no. Don't say I owe you for that!" he said, making futile protesting gestures with his hands.

Suddenly the plane lurched forwards and bounced against something, spinning slightly. "Ughhhh…"

"Well, I guess that answers _that_ question." Jackson shrugged, holding onto the seat as the plane bucked and shuddered.

When they'd finally come to a stop, Lisa peered out the window.

"We're…oh, my God…"

"What?" Jackson snapped, leaning over her to look out of the tiny opening. He blinked, and then blinked again. "What in the name of – "

"Well, at least we've landed at our final destination." she said dryly, looking out at the familiarly – lit signs and buildings that told her they'd landed in Miami.

"What are the odds of that?" he snorted, but smiled slightly. It was just _so_ odd.

"Not large." Lisa agreed quietly, unbuckling her seatbelt but leaving the blanket on. She was feeling a little chilly. "I wonder what they're doing up there."

For about five minutes or so, everyone sat in tense silence. When over ten minutes went by without any word from the terrorists in the cockpit, people began to relax slightly, but still no one got up or talked louder than whispers.

After twenty minutes, Lisa frowned.

_Something's wrong. They should've told us what they were planning by now, or at least started calling up people for – for execution._

"You're right about that, I suppose – they DID say that's what they were going to start doing again…"

She gave him a look.

"Oh, all RIGHT!" he hissed, standing up and walking down the aisle.

Five minutes passed, then another five, then ten – it was half an hour before Jackson came back, looking slightly confused and more than a little embarrassed.

"They knew about the CIA agent." he said, sitting back down in his seat. "They've got cameras hidden everywhere. Including the bathroom."

"Oh…dear." Lisa's eyes widened in horror and disbelief.

"They're all…well…doing what men do…when watching porn on tape." Jackson looked down and away.

"But…they should've only seen me…" she looked at him in confusion. "Jack?" she whispered.

"Apparently, I show up on tape." he raised his eyebrows at her. "And they're trying to figure out who I am, and why they couldn't see me anywhere else on the plane."

"Oh, shit. This isn't good…"

* * *

_To Be Continued…_

* * *

Notes: I'm so pleased that so many people seem to love this story! Just a quick heads-up; there will be 15 chapters – no more, no less. I've got them all planned out down to the last quip of dialogue, I just have to finish editing them and then post them.

The last chapter will be put up before 12:01 am EST on Saturday, and it will conclude this story. However there may be an epilogue, if I find enough tagger swimming around in my brain.

Cheers!


	13. 6:59 am

_Disclaimer: I own no part of Red Eye, and am in no way earning any profit off this story. It is fan fiction, and is written for enjoyment, not monetary gain._

_Phrases in italics are Lisa's communications with Jackson._

_Phrases in bold are loudspeaker announcements._

* * *

6:59 am.

Wednesday.

"**Remain in your seats.**"

"Oh, that's helpful." Jackson scoffed, feeling – and looking, he supposed – very nervous. Agitated. That was a better word. "Very explanatory."

She gave him a dry look and sighed, shifting slightly in her seat. She could feel the wetness seeping through the tissues, and wished she had a tampon, or at least proper padding. This was scratching, and the toilet paper must've been only one-ply, because it was leaking pretty quickly. "Dammit."

"What _now_?" Jackson whined slightly.

"I'm leaking." she gritted, fumbling slightly to get more tissues out of her purse. "Can you go get more from the bathroom?"

"Oh, fine." he sighed, going to fetch them.

While he was gone, Lisa watched out the window. It was slightly foggy, and she couldn't see far, but she could make out several red and blue flashing lights in the distance.

Her stomach jolted. Police! Help was finally here!

"Well, I've got your – what? What are you looking at?"

_There's a police blockade around the plane. _she murmured excitedly.

"Well, whoop-die-do. I certainly hope we're nearing the end of this little trip, because I'm tired of being your gofer."

_Gofer? _she snorted slightly. _You seem pretty happy to get me anything I ask for._

"Only to make you be quiet!" he sniffed, sitting down.

_I can't change it by myself. _she looked out the window. _You're going to have to change it for me._

"WHAT?" he roared. "Enough is enough! I'm not going to – "

He didn't have a chance to say it, though, because at that moment there was a loud sound of gunfire, then a lot of yelling. Suddenly everyone was up on their feet and moving and screaming; Lisa hunkered down in her seat and tried to stay hidden as the terrorists ran up and down the aisles trying to silence people. Violently.

Once things had quieted down again, Lisa gave him a rather pointed look.

"Give me _one_ good reason."

_It's an excuse to see my – _

He was out of his seat and down in front of her before she could even finish.

Sighing slightly, she looked out the window into the gloom as he busied himself between her thighs.

Jackson emerged a few minutes later with a little bit of stickiness on his hands; he went to the bathroom and washed it off.

He contemplated his non-reflective-ness in the mirror.

"How are they able to get me on tape, if I don't even cast a reflection…" he murmured, furrowing his brow. There was a sudden burst of gunfire and the plane rocked violently; he yelped slightly and grabbed at the sink to stop himself from falling over. "What the hell?"

He raced back down the shuddering plane's aisle to Lisa. "What are they – "

"There's a stand-off outside, they started shooting and they've hit the side of the plane!" she said, unbuckling her seatbelt and getting up. "They might've hit something vital, and next time they might hit the engines! We've got to get all these people out of here!"

He nodded, going over to the back door that was opposite the fighting, and sliding the lock open, letting gravity do the work as it swung open.

Everyone stampeded towards the doors; leaving baggage in the aisles; people tripped and some were almost dragged along by others as they made a mad rush to leave.

Jackson pressed himself back against the wall so he wouldn't be swept along helplessly as if in a river of people; he barely breathed as everyone rushed past him.

He began to feel sick again, light throbbing in his forehead making him dizzy, forcing him to close his eyes and slide down the side of the plane…

* * *

_To Be Continued…_

* * *

**Bonus Gag Reel**:

Director: Okay, give her your pout and those eyes. And...action!

Rippner::pouts:

Actress: Guh. :faints:

Rippner: DAMMIT!

Director: Not again! Cut!


	14. 7:23 am

_Disclaimer: I own no part of Red Eye, and am in no way earning any profit off this story. It is fan fiction, and is written for enjoyment, not monetary gain._

* * *

7:23 am.

Wednesday.

By the time Jackson had stumbled to his feet, he was totally sick. Everyone was out of the plane, but he hadn't seen Lisa go past him.

"Lisa!" he called out, stopping to retch and cough up a large, sopping wet amount of…stuff.

"Fucking hell…" he whispered. It looked like he'd hacked up a piece of his lung. Shaking his head and shuddering, he stumbled down the aisles, calling out her name every so often.

Eventually his legs gave out and he ended up crawling on his hands and knees.

The plane rocked and shuddered with stray gunfire, there was a series of loud bangs and suddenly the plane was filled with fire and smoke.

"Lisa!" he yelled, practically dragging his body along the aisles. "Lisa…"

Suddenly he reached out and felt warm, shaking flesh. "Lisa?"

"Jack!" she coughed, grabbing his hand. He could barely make out her face; his vision was a dark, murky red. "Your eyes are bleeding!"

His capillaries must have burst behind his eyes. That would explain it.

"You have to get out of here!" he spluttered, spitting up blood and bits of his internal organs.

Lisa let out a choked cry and struggled. "I'm trapped! My legs are stuck under baggage and I think my left arm is broken!"

He looked at it through the gloom of his vision. It swam. Her arm hung at an odd angle, she was bleeding as well. "Shit. I can't – " he coughed up another large chunk of something. "I can't move the baggage!"

"You have to try!" she protested, struggling with her one good arm.

He dragged himself around to her legs, pushing bags and packages off her, growing weaker by the minute. Finally he shoved the last box off and she struggled to her knees.

It was his turn to collapse, though, and he managed to hack up another large piece of organ.

She sobbed softly, grabbing him round his chest under his arms with her good right arm, dragging him towards the door. It seemed so far away, such a long way off.

"Jack, Jack, say something, keep talking!" she protested, praying that he couldn't die again.

"Say what?" he managed, voice thick and wet with blood.

"I don't know, just something!" she said, crawling forward, inch by inch, under the smoke and flames. Her skin felt oily and greasy, and she could smell fuel leaking.

"Shit, Jackson, the plane's gonna blow any minute…" she yelled, doubling her efforts. It felt like she was crawling through miles and miles of tar; her limbs felt heavy and she coughed, shaking her head and closing her eyes for a minute.

"No! Don't…don't you stop…don't you stop for a minute, Leese." he rasped. "You have to get out. Leave me, I'm already dead. Nothing worse can happen to me. You need…you need to get out."

"I'm not leaving you here!" she protested, dragging them another foot before pausing to take a breath. They were still so far away from the exit.

"Lisa if you don't drop me and hurry, this plane is going to go up and take you with it!"

"We can make it, I know we can." Somehow, his protests were giving her the strength she needed. She managed to crawl faster; they were less than three feet away from the door when the plane gave another vicious rocking motion and something blew behind them. A wave of intense heat rocketed through the plane, and Lisa screamed in pain as she felt it hit her exposed skin, crisping her flesh.

"Drop me and GO!" Jackson roared, trying to fight with her and get her to go on without him.  
"No not leaving you." she protested weakly, struggling the final few feet, the door was so close, so close, so close, yes, it was right in front of her, right in front of them, she pushed Jackson out and slid forward and –

_A huge explosion rocked the tarmac. The 767 could take no more hits, and finally exploded in a huge ball of fire._

* * *

_To Be Concluded!_


	15. 8:00 am

_Disclaimer: I own no part of Red Eye, and am in no way earning any profit off this story. It is fan fiction, and is written for enjoyment, not monetary gain._

* * *

8:00 am. 

Wednesday.

"_Shit! Everybody get down_!"

The plane, leaking fuel and on fire, had finally exploded. Huge balls of flame and smoke rocked the area, sending pieces of the airplane scattering across the tarmac. Most of it, however, just simply collapsed in on itself, creating a ten-foot pile of flaming, twisted metal.

As the police rounded up the last of the terrorists and hauled them off to jail, others checked the number of survivors. According to the stewardesses, the entire staff crew – including the pilot – had made it out alive.

"Did all the passengers make it?" one of the officers asked a small group of survivors. The answer was undecided. A few had been killed during the flight, but no one had been on the plane when it blew, apparently.

As they were sending people off in ambulances and police cruisers, one of the officers suddenly jolted out of his phone call.

"Hang on – there's someone still buried under all the rubble!" he took off in the direction of the plane, running as fast as his legs could carry him. Though he ran jerkily, as if he wasn't used to the long strides he was capable of making.

"What? Wait!" his commanding officer did a double-take and then ran after him.

A couple of them followed the pair to the now-smoldering pile of wreckage. Most of it was scraps of twisted, half-melted blackened metal. "How could anyone have survived that? And they wouldn't be alive now…"

"She is, she is, I know she is." the officer mumbled, prying open a spot near where the rear exit was.

Quite suddenly, long wavy brown-red hair and a body came into view.

"Oh my God! Somebody get an ambulance over here!"

She had a pulse; weak and thready but it was there. She was barely breathing, unconscious as she was, she was still alive.

"Shit, Jones. How did you know?" another officer asked.

"Huh? How did I know what?" he asked, shaking his head as if to clear it. "Uh…did I fall asleep or something…?"

* * *

Lisa woke up to the bleary world of hums and beeping.

"Oooh, she's awake!" a female voice said, and footsteps hurried away across a tiled floor, clacking as she went.

Lisa blinked several times before any part of her world came into focus. She was hooked up to at least a dozen different machines, and as she turned her head to look down at her arms, she saw she was hooked up to three different stands; one was red – blood, probably. Another was clear. Plasma? Morphine? The third was a pale shade of blue, she had no idea what that was.

"Good evening, Miss Reisart. Glad to see you're still with us." said a friendly, older male voice. A large, older man with white hair and green scrubs looked down at her with a smile. "I'm Dr. Adams. You gave us quite a fright there."

She sat up in urgency, worried. "The plane! The hostages! They – "

"Hush, now, everyone's fine." he nodded. "A few people are in the hospital, but no one's injuries were as bad as yours. We've had to give you some skin grafts and a lot of blood."

She lay back, feeling exhausted. "My father…"

"I'm afraid visiting hours are long since past over, Miss Reisart. It's three-thirty in the morning. However, we'll notify him and he can see you first thing in the morning. You should get more sleep. If you need anything, there is a buzzer near your left hand." he pointed to the side of the bed, and then left.

Lisa was just about to close her eyes and drift off to sleep when she suddenly remembered.

Jack!

She sat bolt upright, eyes wide with fear. What had happened to him? Was he alright? Was he gone?

A gentle, yet strong arm slowly pushed her back down again. "Leese. You shouldn't get stressed out. Doctor's orders, remember?"

"Jack?" she asked, head turning to look.

He admonished her with a wry grin. "Now, now. Don't get all excited. You'll collapse again. Just lie down."

She obeyed grudgingly, sighing as she laid her head on the pillow. "I thought you were dead."

"In case you haven't noticed, I _am_ dead." he chuckled dryly, perusing through one of the magazines left on the table by her bed. "Dear Lord. They expect hospital patients to get _better_ reading this shit?"

She laughed with pleasure, waves of relief washing over her. "You were worried about me."

"Well, yes." he set the magazine down with a slight sigh. "You did drag me out of a burning plane – at no small risk to your own life! You're lucky you survived at all. You're insane, woman. Stark raving mad! Emotion at its worst! Argh! Women!" he growled, crossing his arms.

She smiled, leaning back. "You're welcome, you arrogant prick."

"But I didn't say – "

"I know."

They remained in silence for a few minutes.

"You didn't really have to save me, you know. Nothing would've happened to me."

"I know."

"Then why did you do it?"

She laughed lightly, tiredly. "I'm going to get some more rest. Think about it for awhile. Though I doubt your 'male-driven, fact-based logic' is gonna help you with that one." she closed her eyes.

"Oooh." Jackson growled, clenching his hands into fists. He started to say something witty, but she was already asleep. "You are the most aggravating woman I've ever known."

Her face twitched, ends of her mouth curving upwards, but he didn't see this. His eyes were closed.

Sighing, he leaned back in the chair beside her, and put his legs up on the side of the bed. In a few hours, the sun would come up, and her father would come, and all her friends would come, and it would be a bustle of noise and tears and hugs and love. And he wouldn't have a place any more. He sighed.

But for now, it was just him and Lisa.

And those damned ticking, beeping, and whirring hospital machines.

Him and Lisa.

And peace.

* * *

_THE END!_

* * *

I hope everyone enjoyed this fic, I certainly enjoyed writing it! Remember, reviews show how much you love me! 

By the way, I'm beginning another story for this fandom; hopefully it'll live up to your expectations. Cheers!


End file.
